


Céad Mile Fáilte

by learningthetrees



Category: Slow West (2015)
Genre: Childbirth, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 07:37:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7305586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/learningthetrees/pseuds/learningthetrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He should have taken his new son back from Eva, he should have reassured Andrew Jay — there were a thousand things he should have done, but he felt as though some part of him had been left behind in the room with Rose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Céad Mile Fáilte

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a drabble prompt + something I've been wanting to write for a while now.   
> Part of the Ho! for the West universe

“Silas.” Rose’s voice was strained and urgent, her grip on his hand growing tighter. He leaned closer, brushing a strand of sweaty hair from her forehead. She groaned in pain, and it sounded like his name.  “It’s time.”

“I know,” he muttered, rubbing the back of her hand. “Eva’s just gone for the doctor. He’ll be here soon.”

She shook her head, then screwed her eyes shut as another contraction racked her body. “No,” she said, panting, once the moment had passed. “It’s time now.”

“Now?”

Another wave of pain rolled over her, her hold on his hand intensifying again. It had been less than an hour since the labor pains had begun. With their three other children, the entire ordeal had taken several hours, sometimes stretching into days, but it was clear that this time would be different.

Silas nodded. “All right,” he said, drawing a shaking breath. “Rose, look at me.” Her eyes met his, and he could see the fear in them. He just hoped she couldn’t read his. “It’s going to be all right,” he said. “You can do this. We can do this.”

Each time Rose had given birth, Silas had been present. At Andrew Jay’s birth, the midwife had asked him to leave, but he’d only grasped Rose’s hand tighter and told the woman in no uncertain terms that he would be staying at her side. After that, it was never a question. He saw it as the least he could do.

Now, it was all he could do.

Silas slipped his hand from Rose’s grip. She whimpered when he moved away, and the sound nearly broke his heart. He cooed encouragements as he examined her — that she was doing great, that everything was perfect, anything he could think of — to her, but to himself as well. He wasn’t sure what to look for, but he was familiar enough with childbirth to know just how close she was.

And Rose knew it too, because she leaned forward, grasping fistfuls of bedclothes, clenching her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut. A primal growl started low in her chest, rising to a wail as she pushed. All Silas could do was help her brace herself and watch, helpless, as she pushed — once, twice, and on the third push, a warm, red, squirming child landed in his hands. The child took a long, shuddering breath, and then began to shriek. It was a boy. His son.

“ _Céad mile fáilte_ ,” he said. _A hundred thousand welcomes._

Silas unsheathed his knife and cut the cord. With the newborn nestled in the crook of his elbow, Silas grabbed a fresh sheet, wiping away the detritus of birth and wrapping the babe up tight. He was still crying, trying out his little lungs. Silas peeked over at Rose, a smile quirking at his lips. The happiness bubbling up in his chest came to a halt when he saw that Rose was lying back against the bed, eyes shut, face as white as the sheet beneath her.

“Rose.” Silas leaned over her, nudging her shoulder. Her chest rose and fell, but only in shallow breaths. He said her name louder, but she did not respond, and that’s when Silas noticed the bloom of blood spreading out across the sheet beneath her — much more than there should have been.

The child in his arms was still screaming, but he barely heard it. All he could do was say Rose’s name again and again, shaking her shoulder, trying to rouse her. “Rose,” he muttered. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, his voice choked. “Rose, wake up. Please wake up. Our son is here. Wake up. Please. I need you.” He swallowed the sob that was building up in his throat. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

Rose’s chest gave a sharp jump and her eyes opened slowly. “Rose!” Silas leaned forward, slipping a hand behind her head and resting his forehead against hers.

“Is it all right?” Her voice, hardly a whisper, wouldn’t have been audible if he hadn’t been so close. “The baby?”

“He’s all right,” Silas said. He pulled away from her so he could lay the child on her chest. “He’s perfect.”

Rose’s face was still pale, but she gave a weak smile as she laid eyes on her son. “He looks like you.” The baby wriggled, his cries growing less strained. He lifted a fist, splaying his tiny fingers as he reached towards his mother.

Then Silas saw Rose’s eyes begin to blur; he could see she was fading again. “Rose, stay with me,” Silas pleaded, but her eyes were already closed again. “Rose!”

The door to the cabin opened, but Silas couldn’t tear his eyes from Rose. “Papa, the doctor.” At the sound of Eva’s voice, Silas turned to see the man rushing to Rose’s side.

“Give us space,” the doctor said, a man of few words.

“No.” Silas couldn’t comprehend — all he knew was that he wouldn’t leave Rose’s side. Not now.

The doctor turned to face Silas, grabbing his shoulder. “You need to tend to the child.” Silas didn’t move. “I need space to tend to her or she may die.” He articulated each word urgently. “Go now.”

“Papa.” Eva was at Silas’s elbow, steering him from the room. One last look over his shoulder showed Silas that Rose was still unconscious.

Eva pulled the door shut. Andrew Jay was standing just outside. Even at five years old, he seemed to know something was wrong. “How is Mama?” he asked. Silas was dumbstruck; he had no words.

“Mama will be fine,” said Eva, taking the newborn from Silas’s arms. He sank down onto the front porch, numb. He should have taken his new son back from Eva, he should have reassured Andrew Jay — there were a thousand things he should have done, but he felt as though some part of him had been left behind in the room with Rose.

 _Or she may die_. How could the beginning of one life mean the end of another? How could someone so full of life as Rose be so weak, so close to death?

And how could Silas go on without her?

He didn’t know how long he sat there, paralyzed, until the door opened again. The doctor appeared in the doorway, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. Silas leapt up, watching the man’s face for any indication of Rose’s health.

“She’s awake,” the doctor said. “She’s weak, but I managed to stop the bleeding. She’ll be all right.”

But Silas barely heard these last words because he was pushing past the man into the room. Rose lay propped up in bed, sweaty hair pushed away from her flushed forehead. He dropped to his knees at the bedside, burying his head against her neck. “Thank God,” he murmured. He felt her hand rest on his shoulder, and he let loose a sob, hot tears soaking the pillow beneath them.

“Thank God.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me at [ask-learningthetrees.tumblr.com](http://www.ask-learningthetrees.tumblr.com)!


End file.
